


Necessary Roughness

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Biting, Chasing, Cuffs, D/s, Dub-con Somewhat, F/M, Fucking, Rough Sex, Spanking, dominant Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's not happy.</p>
<p>Tom's not always a gentleman when he's unhappy.</p>
<p>This is not - necessarily - a bad thing from his lover's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Roughness

**Author's Note:**

> Written/edited very quickly. Sorry for boo-boos.
> 
> Possible triggering - he's rough with her, could be considered non-con by some.

Tom was not happy.

He hadn't said a word to me since he'd grabbed my upper arm in an almost painful grip and practically dragged me out of the party. Of course, he'd stopped before we actually went out into the nearly winter air, tucking me into my coat, knowing I'd get cold walking to the car and be cold in it until it warmed up, and even when he was displeased he always had an eye to my comfort.

In regards to some things, anyway.

But then he hadn't taken my hand as he usually would but rather grabbed my wrist, fingers closing over one of the, custom made, cuff-like bracelets he'd gifted me with so recently - the ones that I couldn't remove unless he allowed it, because only he had the key to the tiny heart locks - which only served to emphasize their meaning.

He loved me. 

He adored me.

But he also enjoyed controlling me, and he particularly liked the idea that I would always be wearing a reminder of that fact.

Normally, he matched his strides to my much shorter ones, but he wasn't in that nice a mood this evening.

No, he wasn't in a nice mood at all.

Dangerous. Menacing. Explosive. Yes.

Panty-wetting, dry mouth causing, heartbeat racing royally pissed was more like it.

When we got to the car, I knew the only reason he bothered to open my door was so that he could keep control of me, practically shoving me into the seat and closing the door so quickly and forcefully that I was glad I'd take care with my extremities.

And, of course, the first thing he did when he slipped into the driver's seat was lean over and lock my wrists together.

I automatically opened my mouth to protest, but managed to restrain myself, saving myself from at least one punishment, as I knew I wasn't allowed to speak when the cuffs were linked.

There would be cries and moans and most definitely screams, but nothing coherent could pass my lips until my wrists were separated by him.

It was a strange ride home. We are both very verbal people - we can talk others right into the ground - and we are always laughing and talking and teasing . . . 

But not this time. It was the most silent, uncomfortable ride I've ever taken with him, knowing what my immediate future probably looked like when he got me home.

I wondered how long it would be before I'd be able to wear short dresses again - how long before the inevitable welts of his displeasure with me would fade.

And even if he didn’t punish me for some reason, I knew I'd be wearing - and feeling - the physical evidence of his mood - and his absolute possession of me - on my body in very intimate places regardless.

He didn't even unlock the cuffs when he parked in our driveway, coming around to almost yank me out of the car by the clasp between them, then forced marching me down the front walk - where anyone passing by walking their dog or jogging - could have seen me.

And I knew he liked that idea - of others seeing just how thoroughly he owned me.

I do, too, I acknowledge to myself baldly.

The problem is that he knows how much it turns me on, too, and he never hesitates to use my kinks against me, to challenge them - to challenge me and my submission to him - at every opportunity.

He opened our front door and stood to one side, letting me in first, not because he was his usual gentlemanly self, but because he knew he couldn't assume that I would meekly follow him in.

And with good reason - because I hadn't in the past - I'd bolted around to the back of the house, trying to make a badly, not-thought-out-at-all run for it, but really, there was nowhere for me to go, and he'd caught me in a matter of a humiliatingly few seconds.

As a result of my little rebellion, things had gone that much worse for me, and he was being needlessly cautious. But that was a mistake I had learned - the hard way - not to repeat.

Once inside, he slammed me up against the wall, facing away from him, one hand holding my wrists above my head with depressing ease while the other claimed every private part I owned.

"I watched you tonight - I saw you flirting with every man there. And I know why you were doing it. You like to tease me. You know how seeing you with anyone else - the way you bat your eyelashes up at someone, like Ben, and touch his arm while you talk, like Fassbender, laughing in that incredibly sexy way at something they've said - drives me crazy. You like to make me insane because as much as you might protest, you enjoy the consequences when you do."

All at once he jerked his hips into me, snapping me hard against the wall while tugging my wrists even further up, making me stretch painfully, my skirt hiked up obscenely because of it and feeling the threatening prominence of his rock hard erection pressing against my defenseless bottom.

I was - at his command - wearing a garter belt and stockings, but no underwear. When he thrust powerfully forward again, he was forcibly cleaving my cheeks around the big, threatening bulge I knew I would soon be required to accommodate within me - wherever he chose - although just how soon depended on whether he decided to punish me before or afterwards.

Judging by the size of him and the ragged breath I could feel against my hair, I'd put my money on afterwards.

My face turned towards the interior of the house, I could see shades of his profile in the soft lamplight of the one we always left on in the evenings when we were out, as well as the streetlights coming through the big floor to ceiling windows of the living room.

And then, all of a sudden, I couldn't see anything. We were standing in blackness so deep I felt as if I could touch it.

A blackout. Lovely.

We were both still for a long moment, then he surprised me by nipping my earlobe sharply, growling huskily, "You had better run, little girl, because wherever I catch you, that's where I'm going to have you."

And then he flicked my wrists open - which surprised me again - but I didn't take the time to think about it.

When Tom said run, I fucking well ran.

The rule was that if I could get to our master bedroom - which was, of course, at the other end of our house - then he couldn't touch me for the rest of the evening. I wasn't quite in charge - I never was, really - but he would be required to be as docile as he ever was with me, lying stretched out on our bed naked, so that I could ravish him for a change.

He'd never really allowed me full rein even then, though, always turning the tables on me at some point when he couldn’t bear my teasing any longer, either not allowing me to wiggle out of his hold as those massive hands of his held my hips still as he brought me down onto that thick length of his, or by flipping me over - he always preferred to be on top - and stabbing into me roughly.

But it was a lot of fun while it lasted, and more than enough incentive - coupled with the fact that he wouldn't punish me - at least not tonight - if I won - to make me really want to fight to win.

Because of the disparity in our sizes, he was required to give me a fifteen second head start. And while he was doing so, he drawled, "Hide well, my delicate little flower. You know I have excellent night vision."

He wanted me to say something in response so that he would have an idea where I was. I knew better than to fall for his ploy, though. 

And he might have called me his delicate flower - which he did often enough because I was so much smaller than him - and most of the time that was how he was with me, too - the ultimate English gentleman - but I knew he certainly wasn't going to treat me that way when he found me this time.

And he would find me. It was just a matter of time. Despite the fact that we'd lived in this house for five years, and I certainly knew the layout and most of the obstacles, I was very night blind, and there would be something somewhere that was out of place - which would probably be my own fault - and I'd trip over it or stumble into it and he would be on me like a jaguar on fresh meat.

When that inevitably happened, I would actively fight him.

And he would just as actively - and inevitably - subdue me.

I did my best as I moved away from him and into the house to be as quiet as possible, stepping silently out of my heels and leaving them right where they were for him to trip on, I hoped, keeping my mouth closed when I really wanted to pant from fear and excitement, trying to avoid those joists in our wonderful old house that had telltale squeaks.

This time, my strategy was a bit different than it had been before. I hid myself closer to the door we'd just come in than I thought he would assume, and heard him - and saw a very indistinct shadow of him - pass right by me on the way to the den on the left.

I bided my time, waiting until I thought he was actually in the den - which only had one way out or in unless he was going to go outside - to try to slip down the hallway down the center of the house that led to the bed and safety.

Relative safety, anyway.

I was concentrating so hard on my goal that I didn't see or hear the bastard, who had faked me out and was just waiting beside the hall for me to do exactly what I did.

He literally blindsided me, crashing into me and using his momentum to roughly shove me the few steps into the living room and forcibly bending me over the back of our comfy couch.

But I wasn't near surrendering yet, wishing I hadn't discarded my heels as I tried to jam mine down onto his instep - which I then realized was bare, and even then I did little to no damage. He didn't even grunt.

I soon recognized that the rest of him was just as bare - damn, this man could get naked faster than anyone I'd ever known. It was as if he constantly wore tear-away clothing, although I knew from the bills for them that he didn't.

Grunting angrily, I kicked, I tried to twist away, all while I reached back to grab onto any part of him I could, aiming for one particularly vulnerable one but not getting it.

"That's it," he chuckled condescendingly as he ignored my blindly grasping hand and began to smack my bottom with his open palm, delivering breathtakingly stinging smacks that made it hard for me to concentrate on what I was trying to achieve. "Christ, I love it when you try to fight me! When are you going to learn that you have no hope of defeating me?"

"NEVER!" I cried, now trying to swat at his hands instead, trying futilely to deflect any of his punishing spanks, even though I should have known better than to try to do that, because seconds later, my wrists were neatly trapped and linked again behind my back.

But I didn't stop fighting, trying to rear up and lever myself off the couch, but with him so close behind me, it was pretty much impossible to do. He simply - almost lazily - spread his legs - and thus mine - apart and assumed a power stance that held them that way no matter how hard I tried to close them, bending a bit at the knees to make me even more vulnerable to him.

My dress had buttons down the front which he reached around and popped as he ripped the dress apart to reveal my breasts, pulling it down only enough to hold my arms even more tightly against my body than they already were while he grasped and crushed and pulled at them, making me squeal and try to bend my head down far enough to bite his hand, but I couldn't get to him - the couch cushions were in the way.

There was nothing more that I could do to avoid the inevitable and I knew it. He would have me, on his own terms, as he always had.

The only thing left for me to do was to try not to enjoy it.

It had never worked before - oh, I could delay the inevitable, but not for long. He was much too good.

And I didn't have many hopes for it working now, either. But it did bother him that I did that, and I had to take that kind of small satisfaction where I could.

Then, as he squeezed a breast painfully in each hand - fingers digging cruelly into them - using them as leverage to keep me in place, he plunged himself into me with no preparation or warning whatsoever, all the way, all at once, pulsing himself there within me and forcing himself further into me, occupying just a scant bit more of me each time, but those were bits he wanted, and he would have from me.

All of me. He wanted all of me, and he would never settle for less.

Then he bent his long length over me, leaving one hand to worry my nipples until they were raw and tender, while he began to tighten his other hand on my throat.

"This is your best purpose, my love. This is right -" heavy thrust - "where - " all the way out, snapped immediately back in - "you - " another powerful plunge that had my teeth clacking together - "belong."

Then he bit my neck and kept his teeth sunk into me - marking me as his - while he began to fuck me with every bit of his strength, making no accommodations for my size whatsoever, simply taking me, knowing that that would get me there, too.

Damn him.

"How long before you cum, my darling? You were sopping wet when I sank into you and you're even more so now," he panted breathlessly, fingers curling even more tightly at my throat as he split me further open, laid me even barer to him, with each thrust. "How long before you can't withhold your ecstasy from me any longer?" The fingers that had been at my nipples found the swollen pebble that was my clit and began to stroke it knowingly, demandingly.

"You know I can keep this up as long as it takes." His teeth found my nape as he whispered urgently, "Give it to me. It's mine. Give it to me now."

And he was right. About all of it. 

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could do was feel every acute second of everything he was doing to me, and I found myself abruptly at the end of my ability to deny the helpless pleasure he was inflicting on me. That bubble within me - where the hard spike of him was between my legs, where his lips and teeth marked me, where his fingers were teasing me relentlessly.

I began exploding around him almost immediately at his command, lost in my own maelstrom of bliss, clamping down on him so hard he had to fight to move within me, but he did, never letting go of me, holding me as his through my screams and my frantic writhing as if I still wanted to get away from him, riding me hard, pulling my head back by my hair at the last, as he succumbed to his own lust and poured himself into me, bucking uncontrollably against me as he screamed my name into my ear and shuddered wildly around and within me.

I expected him to release my wrists, to help me gently up and guide or even carry me - bridal style - into our bedroom from there.

None of that happened. Instead, he slipped from me with a telling gasp, then, without unlocking my wrists, he slung me over his shoulder and sauntered down the hall with me like that, still panting hard and occasionally swatting my butt hard.

I found myself literally thrown onto my back on the bed and eagerly followed down by him, and the lights came on at that moment. I could see that he still looking somehow unsated - although I certainly knew he was - and just as dangerous.

As I used my heels on the comforter to try to scramble away from him, he simply grabbed an ankle and held it up high and out from its partner, who got the same treatment, then dove down onto my slit with his mouth open, fingers already pumping inside me.

No amount of begging would deter him.

"You know how I love to watch you cum," he threatened, glancing up at me so that I could see my own wetness on his face and giving me an evil look as his mouth descended upon me again.

Seconds later, he got his wish.


End file.
